


Burning Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [17]
Category: Elite Wrestling Revolution, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Kayfabe Compliant, Kevin is really bad at a lot of things, Kevin is really bad at communication, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sami is the worst at social interaction, Swearing, aggressive affection, aggressive concern, aggressive lots of things, also regular angst, because Kevin is a helicopter boyfriend apparently, descriptions of semi gross things, disparaging remarks about hitchhiking, doomed bbys, jesus christ the Posessive Behavior, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, obnoxious callbacks, obnoxious foreshadowing, since he isn't ACTUALLY Sami's boyfriend, so is kevin, stealth angst, super brief mention of Senior Kidd, then he's definitely your guy, unless you want your heart broken, weird introspective musings about awful things, which doesn't even make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: Make ups and break ups and miscommunication, oh my!
In which Kevin finds a worthy opponent, Sami has dangerous travel methods and they both don't know how to cope with anything at all.
Also, Kevin has very strong opinions about getting into cars with strangers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> This week and today in particular are either going to be super awesome or the shittiest shit to ever be shit, so I dunno whether the next fic will be here next weekend or not. We will see.
> 
> Anyway, this is kinda rambly and Kevin had, like, no ability to hold onto a thought in this one. Or it might just be an inability on my part to convey his thoughts in a readable fashion, I'm not sure. Hopefully it's legible. It's basically one long mental breakdown on Kevin's part, though he kinda gets his shit together near the end, mostly because he has to. It's kinda like Hoarding Forever version 2.0, in that it is just a huge 'Kevin Steen Has Massive Fucking Issues: The Fic' kinda thing. I apparently like these, I guess. In my defense, I have written many introspective pieces already and I have said that I really like character studies (you are all super shocked, I'm sure) so you can't say I didn't warn you.
> 
> One of these days, I'm gonna get this whole foreshadowing thing under control. And after that, I'm gonna stop calling back to my OWN WORKS, because if THAT isn't just the most pretentious thing in the world I don't know what is. (i am such a liar. the giddy kick I get out of drawing little connections between fics is way too much fun to stop. besides, Kevin need his madness mantras :)
> 
> Also, uh, since I know people get super weird about words, the term 'rape van' is used towards the end, so if that bothers you, do not read on. Also, Kevin is his usual crude ass self, plus he insinuates some unpleasant things for a good chuck of this fic (although he always does that, so i guess that is not new) so again, beware.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

He can still feel the rush of adrenaline washing over him as his heart beats furiously, sending a heady flood of endorphins through his system. The frenzied deluge leaves him trembling as he walks back through the flimsy curtain, not enough energy in his tired body to rebelliously rip the fabric from it’s pathetic position.

Kevin stumbles unsteadily along the narrow hallway, blinking in the dim light and ignoring the few workers and wrestlers he passes. His head pounds as he staggers down the hallway, his vision blurring with either exhaustion or sweat, he is not sure at this point and he honestly doesn’t care.

He just wants to go lay on the concrete floor in the locker room and _breath_ for a while.

No such luck, as it would turn out. Kevin barely gets the locker room door pushed open before Christopher is in front of him, looking him over like Kevin is a particularly puzzling anomaly.

Running shaky fingers through sweat soaked hair, Kevin eyeballs Christopher, eyebrow raised as he waits as patiently as he can manage.

“The fuck do you want, Daniels?”

- _or not so patiently_ -

(whatever)

Christopher cocks his head, watching Kevin closely for another long moment before finally reaching out a hand, his long spidery fingers flexing in the air between them. Kevin glances down at Christopher’s out stretched hand, inhaling roughly and rolling his shoulders.

Christopher flexes his fingers again like it’s a nervous habit and wiggles his hand a bit in Kevin’s direction, eyes still glued to Kevin like he was trying to figure him out.

“Good match.”

Kevin rears back a bit at the simple statement before forcing himself to be still and eyeing Christopher suspiciously. The other wrestler just stands there though, hand outstretched and a somewhat earnest look on his face.

- _some men are never **earnest**_ -

(some are never **tarnished** )

- _ **this** one is not one of **them**. he **knows** one though_ -

Christopher’s fingers are covered in gritty sweat and they are jittering slightly, as if he is still as charged as Kevin. Kevin squeezes Christopher’s fingers between his own, an oddly cathartic moment of understanding and something like companionship passing between them before they both let go and move back.

Christopher adjusts his bag and gives Kevin a nod that Kevin returns, before sliding past him through the door way, pulling out his phone as he goes. Kevin watches him for a heartbeat, slightly confused at the last few minutes but not displeased. Wetting his slightly chapped lips and wincing as his tongue brushes the split-

(courtesy of Christopher’s knee, the squirelly bastard)

-Kevin finally takes that last step into the locker room.

(and immediately runs into fucking-)

- _oh_ -

(son of a _bitch_ )

“Are you gonna stand in the door way all day, or what?” Kevin bites out after a rather long, somewhat tense moment.

- _are we just ignoring the fact that you’ve already **moved** out of the doorway?_ -

(fuck _off_ )

The moron actually moves backwards a few paces, though **_he_ ** doesn’t other wise react to Kevin’s words, just continues to blink owlishly and look pathetically mournful.

Kevin lets out a breath through harshly clenched teeth, tearing his eyes away from the wall over **_his_ ** shoulder to glare heatedly at the **_idiot_ ** standing stock still, big eyes all wide and sincere, at attention in front of Kevin like **_he’s_ ** welcome there.

- _always_ -

(no.)

- ** _forever_** -

(NO)

“Are you okay?”

Kevin reaches up, rubbing at his face and letting out a long, loud breath through his nose.

Fuck.

“Like you would even-” Kevin starts but he gets cut off before he can really get going.

“Fuck you, Kevin. You know I care. Just because you can’t wrap your head around fighting with someone you care deeply about doesn’t mean the rest of us have that problem.”

( _jesus **christ**_ )

- ** _oh_** -

The words are spoken harshly, falling out of _those lips_ , the smoldering admonishments falling at Kevin’s feet, **stark** against the concrete floor. Kevin watches all that _remains_ writhe around on the floor for a long moment, his head roiling with all of the **_everything_ ** that _burns_ between **_them_**.

- _ **cares deeply** enough to_ -

(no)

- _just **wrap** your **hands** around **him** and_ -

(stop)

- _fuck you, **take**_ -

Kevin shoves past _**him**_ , grinding a shoulder into **_his_ ** when **_he_ ** tries to resist.

“I don’t even know why a bit part jobber like you is here tonight.” Kevin says as he passes, trying to clear his mind enough to make it out of the fucking locker room with at least _some_ of his dignity intact.

Kevin hears unsteady footsteps behind him, as he walks over to his bag and he feels the anger bubble up from that certain place that only **_he_ ** seemed capable of accessing.

- _ **all** of **you** is for **all** of **him**_ -

“Christopher must have been **thrilled** to hear that he had to share card space with _your_ useless ass.” Kevin continued conversationally, ignoring the fact that they seemed to have drawn an audience, though he notices with some amusement that the other wrestlers around them were trying to appear like they **weren’t** paying any attention to the scene unfolding before them.

(fucking dumbasses)

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Kevin fusses with the strap a bit, listening to the little noises **_he_ ** makes as they stand in the creepily quiet locker room.

(seriously, who do these eavesdropping assholes think they’re fooling?)

- _it's not **eavesdropping** when you're standing in the **middle** of the **locker room**_ -

Kevin gets lost for a minute, in the way _**he** _ shuffles slightly, unable to stand still for long without fidgeting. **_He_ ** sighs softly and Kevin closes his eyes and desperately pulls himself out of the softness of the sound, resists the urge to just stand here in this dirty, musty cinder block prison and listen to **_him_ _breath_**.

fuck

Bracing himself, Kevin turns, slamming into **_him_ ** with more force than he expected.

(why the _fuck_ was he standing so **close**?)

- _hey, **take** what you can get and_ -

“Seriously? Give a guy some space would you? Fuck.” Kevin snaps, reaching out to roughly push _**him** _ away.

( _no_ **no _no_** )

- _fucking **take**_ -

(shut the fuck _up_ )

Liquid fire engulfs Kevin’s forearm as clumsy fingers wrap around his _skin_ , the **burning** heat sliding across his flesh like lava. He stops dead, something like anxiety rising unpleasantly in his gut, even as that **_familiar_ ** sensation floods him.

- _the light is **back** to us. **finally**_ -

(it fucking _burns_ )

- _yes_ -

(it **hurts** )

- ** _exactly_** -

“I just wanted to say,” _**he** _ pauses, biting **_his_ ** trembling lip and Kevin notices that there are tears pooled in the corners of **_his_ ** eyes. The unpleasant feeling in Kevin’s gut twists around, like he’s been stabbed with a serrated blade, instead of watching a grown ass man cry in front of him.

Kevin shifts his bag, drawing in a rough breath when the motion rocks him forward-

(a mistake in and of itself, because now all he can _smell_ is kiwi shampoo and **all** that is **_everything_** )

- _home_ -

-as he accidentally pulls **_him_ ** closer. Kevin clicks his tongue in impatience as he tries to disentangle them, brushing at the tear stains now adorning his shirt sleeves.

“You know, I just had this dry cleaned and then you have to go and sob all over it like the massive cry baby bitch you are-”

“I just wanted to **say** , that that was an _excellent_ match and that I’m **_proud_ ** of you, Kevin.”

- ** _oh_** -

( _what_ **the _fuck_** )

Kevin blinks as his arm is released, his thoughts suddenly sluggish as he gazes into that _face_ , so full of contradictions that will forever puzzle Kevin. The softness and the fierceness.

The happiness and the sadness.

The anger-

(probably directed at Kevin)

- _and the **lo**_ -

( **NO** )

“I don’t care weather you are proud of me or not, Sami.” Kevin says, swallowing after he speaks and inhaling roughly as he processes the wavering of his own voice.

fuck.

**_His_ ** face is clearer now, the tears having stopped apparently-

- _ **stained** on you **forever**_ -

-and **_he_ ** seems to have gotten whatever it was off **_his_ ** chest, because **_he_ ** steps back a bit, giving Kevin that much craved breathing room.

(it doesn’t make the feeling of **_suffocation_ ** any better)

(also, his arm still **_burns_** )

- _if the cage doesn't **strangle** you, it'll **roast** you **alive**_ -

“I know you don’t Kevin.” Sami says lightly, the soul crushing desperation in his voice much softer now, though Kevin can still hear it, wavering in the background, just one or two hard pushes away.

(so _much_ at the finger tips of **_us_** )

- _yes, good, **take**_ -

“I care, Kevin.” Sami says quietly, earnestly.

Like a _whisper_.

Like a **promise**.

- _like a **threat**_ -

(like **_forever_ _?_** )

- _like **forever**_ -

Sami reaches out and taps Kevin gently on the throat, his _fingers_ leaving trails of searing **sunlight** across Kevin’s **_skin_**.

“I care.”

* * *

Kevin sticks the greasy bag in his mouth grimacing at the texture and huffing through the paper as he digs for his car keys. Freeing the stupid things from their denim prison, he jerks them into the air with a satisfied grunt around the unpleasantly hot and heavy sack in his mouth.

Jamming them in the lock, Kevin finally gets the car door open, tossing the bag in the passenger seat, sighing happily that something is going his way today.

- _you kicked Christopher's ass, I dunno why you're being such a pouty moron_ -

(today could have been better)

(although beating Daniel’s was awesome)

- _damn right. you know today would have been **better** if you had_ -

(nope)

- _if you had **just**_ -

(NOPE)

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kevin stands, leaning against the door of his car and just breaths in the damp air, ignoring the chilly mist around him. He stands there for a few heart beats, waiting for his mind to settle a bit.

(the fuck i should be driving like this)

- _you wouldn't **have** to drive like this if you **had**_ -

“Fuck.” Kevin growls, more annoyed than he probably should be at his own inability to function. He just needed to get on the road and then-

- _and then **what**? what do you have to look **forward** to when you get to the next show, huh?_ -

- _ **why** do you even **want** to go to the next venue so soon?_ -

- _there is **nothing** there **waiting** for you, so why do you care about getting there early?_ -

- _what is the **point**?_ -

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

Kevin shoulders his way passed the irritated guy he almost ran into and stalks out from under the over hang, heading across the cracked parking lot to the roadside. His footsteps are muted in the foggy air, all the sounds, even the roar of the highway, seeming to get swallowed by the bleak drizzle wafting around him.

“The fuck.” Kevin huffs, his breath coming out in a cloud of mist as he stuffs his clammy fingers in the pockets of his hoodie. Stopping just next to the road, he fixes his eyes on the passing traffic, watching the cars slide past him and very carefully not thinking about anything at all in th hopes that he can maintain some semblance of sanity.

(it is already raining, no need to make operating a vehicle more dangerous than it already will be)

- _by losing your damn mind?_ -

(little _late_ to be worried about _that_ )

- _true. there **is** a good remedy for your crazy though_ -

(no.)

- _you don't get to **choose**_ -

(that doesn’t matter anymore. he doesn’t **_want_** -)

- _little **late** to be worried about **that**_ -

(what?)

Kevin looks up from the ground, an odd sensation prickling at the nape of his neck that he is mostly sure has nothing to do with the rain. Blinking through the fog -both the physical and the mental- he glances around, wrinkling his nose as the odd feeling grows, solidifying into something very familiar and somewhat expected.

(really?)

- _always_ -

“The fuck are you doing?”

It’s ridiculous. Saying that as quietly as he did, just blurting the words out, more a mutter of surprise than anything else, that he would bet no one but him could even hear.

So why was the drenched, huddled figure across the asphalt looking up and around in puzzlement? Surely he didn’t hear that grumbled utterance of disbelief?

- ** _forever_** -

“For fucks sake.” Kevin growls lowly, snapping his jaws and rolling his neck when the orange ball of stupidity perks up at the sound of his voice, eyes traveling to Kevin’s location with unnerving accuracy.

Kevin waits for the usual mixture of desperation and - ** _want_** \- that always rises to the surface when those hazel eyes rest on him to settle, before inhaling sharply and looking up. Head tilted so he doesn’t have to gaze upon Sami in all his radiant glory head on, soggy as the ginger dumbass is right now, Kevin jerks his chin at his pale, blotchy pain in the ass.

Sami teeters on the spot for a minute, then darts his eyes at the oncoming traffic. Kevin grinds his teeth together and presses the soles of his feet into the soggy earth bellow him as one hundred and ninety pounds of soaking wet stupidity come barreling across a six lane highway at him, splashing loudly through the puddles on the asphalt.

Kevin doesn’t move but lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding as Sami skids to a stop, far too close, sending slicks of mud across Kevin’s pants. Drawing in a breath-

(now all damp hair and soggy, mud covered sweat pants instead of dried sweat and freshly showered skin)

- ** _home_** -

-Kevin leans closer, looking him over more out of habit than anything else.

- _ **everything** else_ -

“What the fuck where you doing standing on the roadside in a goddamn rainstorm?”

Sami runs a hand through his soaked hair-

(put your fucking hood up you dumb bastard. gonna catch a million colds, for fucks sake)

-and addresses the ground, refusing to look directly at Kevin, though Kevin wonders if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

“Um. It’s not really raining that hard.”

Sami looks up at that, staring up into the sky, like he needs to access whether or not it was indeed raining.

( _idiot_ )

- _you have the **greatest** taste in the history of the world, you know?_ -

“It’s raining enough.” Kevin snaps, reaching out and getting a hand full of Sami’s bright orange hoodie, squeezing it to prove his point. Sami grimaces as water runs out of the fabric like a water fall, pouring onto Kevin’s shoes and presumably down the insides of Sami’s clothes.

(how the fuck _long_ was he **standing** there?)

“Okay, it-”

“It’s only been two hours since I saw you last. Where the hell did you get so wet? Did you jump into the roadside ditch?” Kevin asks, shaking the handful of Sami’s shirt and getting another fountain of water for his efforts.

Sami pulls back slightly, pushing at Kevin’s tight grip, wiggling as water trails out of his hoodie and under his t-shirt, past Kevin’s vision range, but presumably down under the waistband of his pants-

- _oh, hey, we **could**_ -

Kevin releases his grip and watches Sami flail briefly, caught off balance for a moment.

Sami rightens himself with an indignant huff and straightens his shirt, shooting Kevin a put out look-

(as if Kevin somehow made Sami look more _pathetic_ than he already did)

(as if that was even **possible** at this point)

“I got thrown out into the ditch actually.” Sami mutters, jamming his hands into his hoodie pockets and then immediately making a face like he regrets the decision and pulling them back out, dripping wet.

(what)

“By...?” Kevin asks, feeling a harsh, viciousness curdle in his gut at the thought of anyone throwing Sami anywhere.

Sami scuffs his shoe along the ground, sniffing. “I told the lady who picked me up where I wanted to go and for some reason she got really mad and-”

“What? Why weren’t you riding with one of the other assholes at the show? You tagged with Kidd, why the fuck didn’t you just go back with him?” Kevin says, genuinely confused.

(why the fuck does _everything **he**_ does have to be so fucking **stupid**?)

Sami rolls his eyes, like _Kevin_ is the dumb one.

(and isn‘t that just fucking **typical** )

“I didn’t come here with anyone Kevin. All the boys have already paired up and gone off drinking and stuff. I didn’t want to bother anyone so I just left the same way I got here.” Sami explains in an irritatingly patient voice, like Kevin is a particularly slow student.

- _if he **didn't** come here with one of the wrestlers then_ -

“Did you fucking **_hitchhike_ ** all the way here?” Kevin spits out incredulously, his voice coming out louder than he means.

( **but** , _fucking_ , **_really?_** )

It is Sami’s turn to look confused.

“Yeah...?” He says, tilting his head in puzzlement at Kevin, like Kevin is speaking some foreign language and not common fucking sense.

Kevin jabs a militant, furious finger none to gently in the center of Sami’s chest, startling the other man enough to send him backwards a few steps. Kevin follows him closely, getting up in his face.

“Didn’t your fucking parents ever teach you not to fucking talk to strangers and to **_never_ ** fucking get into a car with one, no matter what kind of candy they have and how friendly their rape van looks? Have you lost you tiny, ginger, dumbass mind?”

“Uh.” Sami stammers, blinking rapidly and looking alarmed, reaching out to rest a jittery hand on Kevin’s bicep, his fingers freezing, even through the fabric of Kevin’s clothes.

The touch does what it always does, calms Kevin’s against his will. He feels his aggression level drop, even as the anger remains, boiling in the background like Sami’s idiocy has lit a fire in his soul. It bubbles restlessly as he tries to juggle his desire to throw Sami in his car and the burning - ** _need_** \- to go find any and all people who may or may not have thought about picking the tiny ginger idiot up-

(and the assholes from the show that thought giving themselves liver cancer was more important that getting one of their own to the next town safely)

-and drowning them in any available ditch until his brain stops screaming at him.

- _fucking **do** something_ -

- ** _NOW_** -

“Hey, Kevin, relax, it’s not a big-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kevin snaps, curling his fingers in the soaked through fabric of Sami’s clothes and hauling him across the parking lot.

Sami obeys, though he fidgets like usual, clearly wanting to say or ask something, though Kevin neither cares nor plans on answering.

( ** _idiot_** )

“Get in the fucking car.”

Sami stalls outside the passenger door, looking across the roof at Kevin.

“I don’t want to inconven-”

“You are literally always an inconvenience. Get in the fucking car.” Kevin bites out, sliding into the drivers seat and starting the engine in one swift motion, cranking the heat up as memories of freezing, far too pale fingers griping his arm flash through his mind.

Sami doddles around for another heartbeat before Kevin gets impatient, leaning over and throwing the passenger door open. Sami still looks dubious and Kevin is so fucking done with his shit.

“Sami. You are not fucking **_hitchhiking_ ** anywhere, **ever** again. If you want to die that badly, just tell me and I’ll snap your neck. It’ll be a lot quicker and less painful than anything your local highway horror movie villain will do to you. Get in the fucking car.”

Sami gives Kevin a somewhat reproachful look, but he hunkers down and slides slowly into the passenger seat, moving stiffly. From the cold or from tiredness from the show earlier, Kevin isn’t sure.

“You are so cynical. Not everyone is a serial killer and not everyone is out to hurt people.”

“Seat belt.” Kevin orders with a huff, waiting until the moron is securely strapped in and trying to subtly lean forward toward the warmth emitting from the air vents before he pulls out of the parking lot.

“It’s not cynicism. You are far too fucking trusting to be able to tell the difference between a crazy person who means you harm and a perfectly safe person, who just wants to give you a ride to your destination without hurting you on the way.” Kevin adds, turning the heat up even more and reaching over, grinding his teeth at the icy skin of Sami’s fingers and pressing the freezing digits to the air vents.

“I do know the difference between a person who just wants to help me and a person who means me harm, Kevin.” Sami defends himself, sounding indignant, even as he sighs softly at the heat radiating across his skin.

Kevin glances at Sami out of the corner of his eye, inhaling roughly as he focuses most of his attention on the road. He tries to ignore the searing, feral sensation churning through him, making it hard to focus on anything other than the ginger dumbass sitting obliviously in his passenger seat. Kevin licks his lips, breathing in the heady smell of damp sunshine.

“No.” Kevin growls definitively, never having been so sure of anything in his entire life.

“No, you do **_not_**.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kevin has, like, THE most bizarre ways of showing affection in the goddamn world. I have NO idea what is up with that, but I kinda like it. It fits him, I think. The whole not-sorry pizza thing and the sorry-for-breaking-you-nose-beer-that-i-know-you-hate thing and bitching you out nine ways to Sunday as he saves you from highway murderers. It's sorta touching and sweet, in a REALLY psycho-baby!Steen-way.
> 
> For the record, this probably doesn't mean they are friends, exactly, again. That won't happen for a while yet. And no, they probably won't be talking about their ACTUAL issues with each other, either. Not for a LONG time at least. Unless I write another alternate timeline piece. Which might happen, as it looks like Left at the Crossroads is getting a sequel.
> 
> (floof incoming I guess then? maybe?)
> 
> Also, psa, don't hitchhike. Unless you live in a magical wonder land of nice, non-serial-killer people, hitchhiking is very dangerous. Although, you don't need to be as overprotective and crazy about NOT hitchhiking as Kevin is. That's not good either. This has been a psa brought to you by Oaklin, writer of terrible, melodramatic fanfic that no one should ever try to emulate or take lessons from ^.^


End file.
